Caution's for the Wind
by Evil Cosmic Triplets
Summary: Morgan gives into an impulse brought on by the rain and Reid's mouth, so close to his own.
1. Rain

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of this work of fiction. The characters are the sole property of their creators and CBS. No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Written for THE 7-DAY CHALLENGE #1 on livejournal, the prompt was 'rain'. Pre-slash, first kiss

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The rain was coming down in torrents as Morgan stepped off the plane in D.C. He hefted his carryon over his shoulder and ducked his head, knowing that, even before he started the run toward the awaiting vehicle, he wouldn't be able to avoid getting drenched.

It was cold, the sky a slate gray and cloudless. Thunder rumbled overhead and Morgan shivered. He attempted to shrug off the ominous feeling that the foul weather inspired and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

Reid was somewhere behind him, the sound of his footsteps drowned out by the overpowering pounding of the rain against the asphalt. Morgan chanced a backward glance, but the wall of rain made it impossible for him to see the younger profiler.

He was soaked by the time he reached the black SUV, its color and size the only reason he'd been able to see it through the thick curtain of rain. His fingers, numb with cold, fumbled with the handle and he cursed as they slipped off the rain-slicked metal.

"Here, I got it," Reid shouted to be heard over the rain.

His mouth was so close to Morgan's ear that the younger agent's breath tickled the hair at the back of his neck, and Morgan swallowed, hard, at the unexpected sensation that the feeling of Reid's breath, hot and moist, brought with it. Morgan closed his eyes, and tried not to think as Reid reached around him to open the door.

Morgan tensed as Reid's arm brushed against his shoulder. Heat radiated from the slender man, and Morgan could feel the doctor's compact muscles contract as Reid pulled the door open. Morgan tried to breathe through the moment, tried not to let his imagination get the better of him, but when he turned to thank his teammate, Reid's crooked smile was his undoing.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Morgan drew the younger agent's face down to his, and, in spite of Reid's startled, "Ah," he kissed the man, relishing the awkwardness of the moment and the doctor's taste – an amalgamation of sweet and salty that merged with the copper of the rain.

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	2. I Love the Rainy Night

**Disclaimer**: See initial chapter.

**A/N**: This is the counterpart to the first drabble and features Reid's perspective.

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Reid doesn't like rainy nights; they always make him feel a little on edge. And when lightning is added into the mix, he finds them downright terrifying. Thunder so loud that it makes his teeth chatter. No, there isn't anything good to be had on a rainy night.

It's with an undo amount of trepidation that he disembarks the plane when they reach D.C. It's raining; the sky's an inky black, and it's impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of him, but he can clearly make out Morgan's figure as his teammate makes a mad dash toward the waiting SUV.

Shaking his head at Morgan's impulsiveness, the man is running through the rain without an umbrella, there's no doubt in Reid's mind that his co-worker will be soaked by the time he reaches the vehicle. Reid hastens after him, steadfastly trying not to jump when thunder rumbles overhead.

"Morgan!" he calls, but his voice is drowned out by a loud clap of thunder.

He quickens his pace, intent on helping the now soaking man who seems to be having difficulty with the handle of the SUV. He shakes his head as Morgan's fingers slip, they must be numb with cold and Reid can't help but wonder at how long and nimble the other man's fingers are.

"Here, I got it," he shouts to be heard over the roar of the rain.

He's standing a little closer to Morgan than he feels strictly comfortable with and can feel the slight tremors that run through his teammate's sturdy frame. Reid can feel Morgan's breath, warm and moist against his neck, and, in spite of the man's shivering, he can feel heat emanating from him.

What happens next – Morgan's fingers, frozen and stiff from the rain wrapping around the back of his neck, pulling him forward – drowns out the ensuing crash of thunder, and a soft, "Ah," escapes him, like he's been sucker punched in the gut. Except, instead of pain and the inevitable contraction of muscles as he curls in on himself in an attempt to protect his abdomen, the tension is like a snake coiling in his gut.

Morgan's lips aren't soft and pliant like a woman's. They are strong, demanding, and more than just a little greedy. Reid's lips part as another soft moan comes from somewhere deep within him, and then there's tongue and teeth, the taste of mouthwash intermingling with the musky cologne Morgan favors. It's a manly mixture that goes straight to Reid's groin.

The umbrella falls to the ground, forgotten, as Reid closes the gap between them, his fingers finding purchase on Morgan's shoulders, digging into them. The thunder dies away, lightning flickers in the distance, like fireworks flashing in the heavens, and Reid is completely lost in his partner's mouth, relishing the stubble gracing the man's chin, the clash of teeth and the way their tongues vie for dominance.

It's with an aching, desperate groan that they part, gasping in air thick with the taste of copper. The rain continues its assault on them as they stand there, foreheads resting one against the other, panting, and grinning like two school kids making out for the first time.

"Fuck," Morgan murmurs.

Reid can only mutely agree, _Fuck. _

Thunder booms overhead, and he shivers. Drawing warmth from Morgan's body, he brushes his lips lightly against the other man's, not wanting this to end. But the others will be there soon; they will only wait so long for the rain to abate.

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	3. It Never Rains but it Pours

**Disclaimer**: See initial chapter.

**A/N**: This one's different than the initial two entries. It is not a drabble, and did not start off with a song, though a song does feature in at the end. This was written for the hc_bingo (livejournal) prompt: taking care of somebody.

**Warnings:** There is mention of sex in this chapter, though it is not explicit.

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Sleep is elusive. Reid shifts his weight in the bed, lets his head fall back against the pillow. It's raining, the sound of thunder gives him goose bumps and he rolls onto his side, facing Morgan, but not touching.

He feels cold and dirty and exhausted. It's been a long, hard day. The case they're on is nowhere close to being solved, and Reid just wishes that his brain came with an off-switch, because he'd really like to stop seeing the pictures – little boys and girls, their bodies mutilated beyond recognition by a monster, probably in his mid-thirties, who kidnapped and murdered children. Always in pairs – one boy, one girl. And always, always, the man cut out their tongues post mortem, so that they couldn't speak the truth about what had happened to them. Indicating that he was afraid of being discovered, being thought of as the monster that he is.

He's grateful that Hotchner made the room assignments. That the unit chief had put him and Morgan together. That the highly perceptive man didn't appear to know about their closely guarded relationship.

It is still new, this thing he has with Morgan. It began with a kiss in the rain. He'd wound up with a mild case of walking pneumonia and Morgan standing on his doorstep with a Styrofoam container of chicken noodle soup in one hand and a movie, _Singing in the Rain_, in the other.

Sex hadn't factored in until later. After he was well, and once cases and room assignments which had separated them were out of the way.

He'd been awkward and unsure – all arms and legs and sloppy wet kisses – blushing and babbling like a virgin. Morgan hadn't been any of those things. He'd been as sure of himself, of what they were doing, as he had been on the day that they'd kissed – the rain cold and piercing, biting their skin.

Reid can still remember their first time together as though it happened yesterday. The picture of male perfection that Morgan made with his skin sweat slick, muscles taut and firm and flawless, as he waited for Reid to adjust to his girth. The way he'd kissed and bit and marked Reid in places that only the two of them would see afterhours, in intimate moments.

He remembers the feel of Morgan inside of him – hot and hard and moving like a freight train – completing him, and making him see stars and pant out, "More, oh please," and, "fuck," as he dragged his nails down Morgan's back and bucked his hips upward so that he could add to the friction and increase his own pleasure. He recalls how he hadn't wanted it to end, but that it had ended anyway, with Morgan coming inside of him seconds after he'd shouted out his orgasm and coated them both with his cum.

A streak of lightning illuminates the room, shakes Reid from his memories, and lengthens the shadows, causing them to take on gruesome shapes. The musty air of the hotel room is electrified. The acrid scent of iron fills Reid's nostrils and raises the hair on his arms.

The clap of thunder that follows is loud and wakes Morgan. His body jerks, and his light snores come to an abrupt stop with a snort.

Morgan reaches for him, casually pulls and coaxes until Reid's head is nestled snugly beneath his chin, and Reid can hear the man's steady, calming heartbeat. Reid shivers and wraps an arm around Morgan, seeking comfort, because this day has been hell and it's raining and he can't stop the memories: Morgan making love to him, and the images of crime scene photos. He can't keep them from bleeding together, melding his personal life with his professional, and terrifying him, because he can see Morgan's body twisted and mangled, severed tongue buried in a shallow grave beside him.

"Reid? You okay?"

"It's raining," Reid says.

Morgan chuckles, the way the sound rumbles in the man's chest reminds Reid of a cat's purr, and he rubs Reid's back, paying particular attention to the tense muscles lining his shoulder blades. At first Reid tenses more, but then his muscles and his anxiety give way beneath Morgan's determined ministrations.

"I've never met anyone else who hates the rain as much as you."

Morgan adjusts their positions so that he can look into Reid's eyes, and he pulls Reid into a kiss. It's nothing but lips and a gentle nibbling and sucking along the jaw. Morgan's touch makes Reid's skin itch and tingle in its wake.

Reid reaches up, cups Morgan's cheek with a shaky hand as thunder cracks and rolls. It makes his teeth rattle in his head, and it unnerves him, but Morgan is warm and his arms wrap around him and he's telling him that it's okay, that he's got him, and that he doesn't need to be afraid of the rain anymore.

He doesn't think that he's ever told Morgan about why rain scares him so much. He hasn't told a living soul about the time that his mother, in one of her less than lucid moments, had locked him outside in the rain because he hadn't eaten his vegetables. He'd been four at the time, and the rain had soaked him through, to the bone. It had thundered and the lightning had lit up the sky with vivid, white streaks.

He can still remember how lightning had struck a tree in the neighbor's yard, setting it aflame even in the downpour which had eventually tamped out the fire, but not until after it had emblazoned itself in Reid's memory – the flames had licked and eaten at the tree, leaving it charred and black. The next morning, his mother had remembered him and opened the door. He'd been sick for weeks afterwards, and had feared the rain ever since then.

Reid lets himself relax and melts into Morgan's embrace. He doesn't have to say anything, Morgan knows what to do. He hums Johannes Braham's, "Lullaby." His voice, soft and low, soothes Reid into a peaceful sleep not haunted by the pictures of the case they're working on or memories of being trapped outside in the rain.

When Reid wakes in the morning, light is streaming in through a gap in the curtains, painting Morgan in a wide swathe of gold. He's sprawled out over the man, head lying on Morgan's chest, arms wrapped around the man like he's an overgrown teddy bear. He kisses the man awake, feels Morgan's half-hard cock poking into his thigh and slides his hand down to rub a thumb over the head of it.

"The rain's stopped," Reid mumbles around a kiss.

Morgan smiles, stretches and his breath hitches when Reid squeezes his balls, rolling them between thumb and forefinger. Reid sucks on a nipple, bites hard enough to leave it. Morgan's dick twitches in response. He growls, and pushes at Reid's other hand, silently begging him to continue what he's started.

It isn't long before Morgan comes in response to Reid's strategic touch. Reid knows that they have only a matter of minutes before Hotchner or Rossi or one of the girls will be pounding on their door, demanding that they get ready to roll out, so he gets Morgan off quick, knowing that Morgan will reciprocate later, when they have more time. Morgan rides out his orgasm in inelegant spasms that leave him spent and breathless.

Seconds later, there's a knock on the door, and both men sigh and share a chaste kiss. Reid rolls off of Morgan and heads into the bathroom to shower and wash off the remnants of sex. As the cleansing water cascades over him, he can hear Morgan calling out that they'll be ready in fifteen minutes.

'Fifteen minutes,' Reid thinks, and then he hurries, knowing that Morgan will need to shower after him. There's no way they can shower together, not if they want to get out of the room on time, not if they don't want to raise suspicions.

It isn't until later that night, after the case has been closed – the monster caught, questioned and locked up – that Reid feels like he can breathe again. Morgan's spooning him, and he can't sleep, but it isn't because of the rain or non-stop memories.

He loves Morgan. The realization hits him like a fist to the gut at first, but then it settle over him like a soft, comfortable blanket. He falls asleep watching Morgan sleep.


	4. Washed Away

**Disclaimer:** See initial chapter.

**A/N:** Written for SpaghettiTacos. The request was for Morgan/Reid and the prompt: bruised. I hope you like it.

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It's raining. The sky's a dark gray in color and thunder rumbles overhead. Morgan's head jerks up to look out of the window and a streak of lightning illuminates the night. He knows that Reid, were he lying in bed beside him, awake and trembling slightly because of the storm, would be flush up against his side, spooning him, trying his best to ride out the storm. And, they'd kiss – slow and leisurely – just tongue and lips and maybe teeth.

Morgan studies the quiet, still figure on the hospital bed. Reid's face is a mottled mess of bruises and cuts. None of them are very deep and they don't require stitches, but it looks painful, and ghoulish.

Morgan and the others had been informed that Reid's chest, back and thighs were covered in a multitude of thin gashes, made from a fillet knife. There were other bruises too. Bruises, which are currently being hidden by the blue hospital blanket which covers the young agent.

Not for the first time since they'd found Reid, at the mercy of yet another one of their unsubs, Morgan wishes that it had been him, rather than the younger man, who'd been taken by the paranoid schizophrenic who was suffering from delusions which had made him highly unstable. Morgan wonders what Reid's been through. The young agent still hadn't uttered a single word.

Reid had been conscious when they'd found him, but he'd remained unresponsive when the paramedics had asked him questions, when Morgan had touched his arm, when he'd been loaded into the back of the ambulance. Rain had streaked down his face in rivulets, and Reid had been oblivious to it all. It was at though the young genius had shut down. He wasn't letting anything or anyone in, and that scared Morgan.

Morgan sits down in the chair beside Reid's bed, and tries to ignore the sound of the rain pounding on the roof of the hospital. It's been raining nonstop since Reid was taken, and doesn't show any sign of letting up.

He and Reid have been seeing each other for a couple of months now, their relationship is still very new, and yet Morgan feels as though his very heart is being ripped out of him. Seeing Reid in pain makes it hard for him to breathe.

Morgan doesn't know what to do, and that makes him angry, because he always knows what to do in any given situation. There isn't anything he can say. He isn't sure that Reid, in his current state of mind, would be able to hear him anyway.

"Reid." Morgan's voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. He leans forward and brushes his lips across Reid's forehead where there's a small patch of the man's skin which is unscathed.

Reid's breath hitches, the heart monitor does a double blip and then steadies into a normal rhythm, and Morgan wonders if he'd imagined it. He waits a few heartbeats, his eyes track the mountain like ridges and grooves on the computer monitor, and then he moves to settle back into his chair.

Lightning lights up the dimly lit room, casting shadows along the wall, making the equipment and IVs that Reid is hooked up to look like misshapen monsters. Short and fat, skinny and tall.

Morgan sighs, and runs a shaky hand over his head. This time it had been too close. They'd almost lost Reid – he'd almost lost Reid.

"Reid, I can't lose you," Morgan doesn't look up as he speaks, instead he stares at his palms, studies the lines and the thin blue veins that are barely visible.

"Not when it feels like I've just found you. Did I ever tell you about the time Garcia dragged me to a palm reader?" Here, he looks up, and not unexpectedly, Reid's eyes are still closed, the heart monitor's continuing its steady beeping.

He looks down at his hands, and traces the longest line on his palm – the lifeline – and then the line which the palm reader had indicated was his love line. This one intersects with that of his lifeline. She'd said there was something different about it, that it was unusual and had peered closely at him, her dark eyes boring into his. And then, inexplicably, she'd smiled and patted him on the shoulder and nodded.

"It was while we were in England," Morgan says, and he spares another glance at Reid before returning to scrutinizing his palm. Thunder rolls, and the wind shakes the windowpanes.

He can't remember what she'd said all of the other lines meant, but, that doesn't matter, because what she'd said had stolen his breath, even as he'd laughed. She'd shaken her head and frowned at his reaction.

'_This is no laughing matter.' She'd poked him in the chest with a ring bedecked finger. 'You mark my words Derek Morgan, in less than a month's time, you will find your true love. The man with whom you are destined to spend the rest of your life. It is written here,' she'd dragged her fingernail down one of the lines in his hand, 'and here,' she dragged her nail down another line, 'and here.' _

"She told me that I was going to fall in love," Morgan says. "I laughed it off. But then there was that one night, in the rain, and, and Reid, I just knew. Her words came back to me, and I knew that it was you she had been talking about." Morgan grasps Reid's hand, squeezes it, listens to the rain and remembers the first time that they kissed.

"So, you see, Reid, you've got to wake up, you've got to come back to me, you have to make it through this. You're my heart, man. That's how the palm reader described you. She'd called you my heart, said that my heart line," and Morgan pauses to trace that line on Reid's hand, "was incomplete, that it was twined to that of my soul mate."

The beeps of the heart monitor speed up, and the hand that Morgan's holding squeezes back. Morgan holds his breath, waits a few seconds just to be sure, and then he tears his gaze from Reid's palm to look at the man's face.

Reid's watching him with a wariness that Morgan has never seen in the younger agent's eyes before, but they've lost that glazed look that they'd had when they'd first found him, and Morgan finds that heartening. It gives him hope that, with help, Reid would recover from this too.

"Soul mate?" Reid's voice is weak and it cracks on the last word. He coughs and Morgan slips a straw through Reid's lips, letting the man drink some of the lukewarm water that had been placed on the bedside table.

"Soul mate?" Reid asks again, and he shivers when a streak of lightning flashes in the window.

Morgan nods and smiles a little self-consciously. He rubs a hand along Reid's arm. Hearing Reid say the words aloud makes it real, and anchors it in the here and now, gives it more weight than the cryptic ramblings of the palm reader. His heart lurches in his chest when Reid gives him a slow, shy smile in return and squeezes his hand a second time.

"I like the sound of that," Reid says.

"Yeah, me too."

A loud clap of thunder causes Reid to tremble, and he closes his eyes and murmurs something that Morgan can't quite make out. He leans in closer to hear and Reid's lips ghost across his ear, making Morgan shiver almost as much as the words themselves: "Morgan's coming. Just hold on a little longer. He won't let you get washed away by the rain."

"No, no I won't," Morgan says, and then he gathers Reid up in a hug, taking care not to jostle the injured man too much.

"I was so scared," Reid confesses, "but not of the unsub. Morgan," Reid laughs a little hysterically, "I understood, you know, at the back of my mind that he couldn't stop himself. I was afraid of the rain, of the thunder of the lightning, and I missed you. I missed waking in your arms; I missed the scratchy feel of your stubble against my cheek; I missed waking to your morning breath; god, Morgan, I thought I'd never see you again, that the rain would somehow wash me away."

Morgan doesn't care how it will look to the hospital staff or his team – he'll come up with something to tell Hotch and Rossi, should they ask – he cares only about Reid as he lowers the railing of the hospital bed and then lies down next to the other man. The thunder, lightning and rain continue throughout the night, and into the early hours of the morning, but neither man pays it much heed, because they have, in each other, shelter from the rain.

Morgan reminds himself to thank Garcia for dragging him to the palm reader, and then he falls into a peaceful sleep with Reid's head tucked beneath his chin and his body wrapped loosely around the other man's – like a cocoon. Reid _is_ his heart, his life, his everything.

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